


Careful, He Bites

by maxxeoff



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha Hannibal Lecter, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Feral Will Graham, Hannibal fucks him and Will is happy about it, M/M, Omega Will Graham, Vaginal Sex, Will is fourteen, will be explicit but rn i'm taking a break from writing but i'll be back!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:22:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27996705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maxxeoff/pseuds/maxxeoff
Summary: Will Graham is a feral child. His dad died when he was five, and he lives with a wolf pack until he has his first heat. He's found, brought to Baltimore.Dr. Lecter takes an interest in him.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 49
Kudos: 479





	1. Not Lost in the Woods

**Author's Note:**

> READ THE TAGS!
> 
> In my version of A/B/O, omegas have vaginas. I use AFAB language, meaning I use terms for genitals like cunt/pussy/clit etc.
> 
> Will is a feral child. That's kinda the theme of the story. That, and morally dubious sex. Wheeee!
> 
> OG threadfic here: https://twitter.com/maxxeoff/status/1333151451045048321

Will Graham is five years old when his father dies.

He hadn’t even started school yet. His dad had only just begun to teach him to read and write.

Usually, the guy was busy with work and more work, and then drinking. But Will had treasured his moments with his father. He liked going fishing with him, preparing the fish. He liked when his dad read stories to him.

His dad drank too much, and Will finds him dead in the morning. He doesn’t understand. His daddy is cold. He smells wrong. Their German shepherd, Trout, whines all morning. Will doesn’t cry.

He gets himself breakfast, walks Trout. He never needs a leash on him, the shepherd sticks by his side no matter what. Will goes back to his dad, and he is still dead.

He calls 911.

“Oh honey, stay right were you are. We’ll send someone for you right away. You sure there’s no one you know to be with you right now?”

Will is scared. He doesn’t want the police to take him. He’s smart enough that he knows they’ll take Trout, and they’ll probably keep Will in a room and _coddle_ him. The only person allowed to coddle him is his dad, and his dad is dead.

He gets his little cartoon-themed backpack, puts snacks in it and food for Trout, and they escape into the Louisiana swamps.

Will has been camping enough with his father – and left alone enough by his father – to know how to take care of himself and Trout. When he gets tired, he sits close to a big tree and Trout stands guard. When he gets hungry, he fishes with a sharp stick. He eats berries and leaves, getting himself sick a few times and quickly learning which ones to avoid. He and Trout only drink from running water.

Trout hunts every day, finding rabbits and squirrels and sometimes birds. Like a good boy, he shares with Will. Will tries to build a fire to cook the meat, but it’s too difficult for his little hands and so he and Trout eat everything raw. He gets used to it, learns to avoid the intestines because they make him sick.

He gets sick a lot.

A few times, Will gets close to roads and towns. Once, someone spotted him and shouted at him to come over. Frightened, Will ran, Trout following and helping him up when he fell.

Will finds that the mountains are the safest place to be, because there isn’t anyone there most of the time. He and Trout end up in the Blue Ridge range, traveling North. (Trout leads the way, following cooler temperatures to better suit his thick coat.)

Will abandons his clothes and bag after a few months. Washing himself in the river is too cold now and his clothes are torn and burdensome. His bag was useful for storing food for later, but Will and Trout are good at finding food when they need it.

Will likes the wilderness. He’s okay with snow, because he curls up with Trout and covers them both with leaves or dirt. His fingers and toes get frostbitten a few times, but Will learns to bury them in Trout’s coat.

By the time they reach the US-Canada border, Will is seven. He doesn’t speak much, only to call Trout to him and exclaim about fish or bunnies. He’s faster now, stronger, despite how skinny and small he is.

They come across a wolf pack, or rather, a wolf pack comes across them. Will and Trout are sleeping when rustling leaves and a sense of danger wake them up, both growling.

The wolves are curious, unsure if they should attack or just leave. In awe, Will holds out his hand, open palmed. He loves dogs.

If Will were an alpha, even an unpresented one, the wolves would be much more aggressive. But Will is a young omega, and smells like dog and outside. The biggest wolf, presumably the leader, steps forward to sniff his hand. Will smiles, and he involuntarily lets out a pleased scent.

The wolf huffs, licks his hand, and turns to go. None of the wolves complain when Will and the nervous German shepherd follow.

After a month, Will has little nips to add to his other scars all over his body, but he doesn’t mind. He and Trout adjust to living with a family, and sleep warm at night with larger game in their bellies.

The pack is well-fed, with Will there. He digs up roots and vegetables and berries, and can catch fish. Will switches between using his hands and walking on all fours, upright only for small portions of the day. He understands that he’s faster on two legs but prefers being on the level of his pack.

By the time Trout dies of old age, Will stops using language altogether. He patrols the pack’s territory like any of them, and rolls around with the pups when they’re born.

Will knows that he’s different from his pack, though. He can stand on two legs, climb trees. He’s also softer, hairless, and never seen as a potential mate. The pups reach sexual maturity before Will does.

But Will doesn’t mind, because the pack doesn’t mind. He’s happy, surrounded by warmth and family.

And then Will experiences his first heat.

It’s about nine years after Will’s father died, and the pack is experiencing a particularly hungry winter. They wander closer to towns, drawn by the scent of warm food in the air, but never get too close for fear of the humans.

Will, however, is too warm. He thrashes in his sleep, causing the wolves to nip at him to calm down. When they hunt, Will is slow and clumsy. He gets very little of their catch.

When the heat hits in full force, Will cries. He doesn’t know what’s going on. He’s seen some of the wolves go through something similar, but it feels _terrible_. And he doesn’t think he would be compatible with the thing they do when another wolf mounts them. He lies on the ground, trying to get some relief in the cold of the snow.

A gunshot rings clear through the air, and Will yelps. He tries to scramble away, towards his den, but his pack isn’t close by to help him and he just falls face-first into the ground, delirious.

He rouses when two cold and furry noses nudge him, but has trouble startling when he realizes it’s not his pack. It’s two dogs, normal dogs. And Will can smell _humans_ on them. He cries, paralyzed by heat and fear.

The beta had been hunting a deer when he saw a wolf, far off. He rang out a shot to scare it and its pack away, not wanting any trouble for his own dogs. The deer also ran, unfortunately, but he’d rather not hunt in wolves’ territory anyway.

But he hears whimpering sounds, and the rustle of dead leaves under the thin sprinkling of snow. He sends Cookie and Watermelon to investigate, and comes running when he hears a cry. A _human_ cry.

The hunter is horrified to find an adolescent omega in heat, naked and dirty in the snow. He goes to the boy, seeing hundreds of little scars all over him. When the omega doesn’t respond to his frantic questions except for screams and poorly aimed scratches and bites, he calls the authorities.

The feral child is packed up in a padded van with nurses and driven across two states to get him to a hospital reliable for pediatric omega care. As the least common of the secondary genders, not many cities provide omega services, let alone good ones. The wild omega ends up in Baltimore, Maryland by the end of the day.


	2. Behind Walls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Lecter enter the scene. 
> 
> Some NSFW!

Will is panicking. He’s away from his pack, from the outdoors. He’s in a _room_ . There are people coming in and out, trying to touch him and talk to him. Will is in pain _already_ from this horrible fever, and he’s _away from his pack!_ He growls and screams and swipes at anyone who comes near him, and at least they don’t try to grab him like the people transporting him did.

The feral child does not seem to understand language. He doesn’t take comfort in the omega-tested soft and dim room, perfect for nesting. A nurse and medical assistant were both bitten when they tried to draw blood, and were given emergency rabies shots just in case. The child is in heat, confused and malnourished, probably language-deprived. After a few hours of staff running around in circles like chickens with their heads chopped off, the doctor currently heading the case gives the go-ahead to tranquilize the boy.

Finally, they can give the poor young thing suppressants appropriate for a first heat. Some orderlies give him a thorough sponge-bath, gasping and cooing sadly at every scar they uncover. They attach an IV, giving him fluids, and draw blood. Horrified at the results, they give him almost every children's’ vaccine that are safe in a short period of time.

The doctors, nurses, and staff assigned to the feral boy’s case work all night. They call experts from different departments and universities, thoroughly analyze the boy’s blood, check his unconscious reflexes and physical health, talk worriedly to the social workers.

Soon, the whole hospital knows of the feral child in Johns Hopkins pediatric omega ward.

They ease the sedation on the young omega and allow him to wake up in the morning.

Will wakes in the morning to a mess of confusing sensations. The terrible fever from earlier has passed, but Will is more urgently focused on how wet his cunt is. It’s _sopping,_ something he’s never experienced before. And there’s fabric on top of him, surrounding him, and his skin feels weird and everything smells wrong and _there’s something sticking out of his arm –_

Two people rush into Will’s prison when loud _beeps_ fill the air and a light pulses red. Will screams, tries to throw the cloth that’s on him at the humans. It flutters to the floor, but luckily they stop anyways and one goes to turn off the alarms.

The other tries to speak to him, using hushed tones and cleverly averting her eyes. Will doesn’t trust her for a second, and will bite if she gets any closer.

And then Will remembers his pack. His _pack._ They won’t accept him back if he’s smelling like these _humans_ , like this _room._ Overwhelmed, Will starts to cry, throwing distress hormones into the air like a weapon.

It takes a few hours and a few tries of different cooked and carefully raw food offerings for the feral child to let anyone near him, and only barely then. The attending doctor comes in and talks to the boy quietly, getting nothing in response. The boy had stopped fighting, falling into a despondency that worries his care team.

They set up a protocol for the child. No one is to be in the room with him alone unless someone else is right outside, ready to jump in at any sign of fear-based violence. They are all to talk in hushed tones, averting their eyes from the boy’s. Physical tests and injections are only to occur with three people in the room, including a nurse, cajoling him or holding him down if need be. His food will all be whole and simple, something that the boy could potentially recognize at first sight. The social workers will see him every few hours, and the case manager at least twice a day.

Harried and concerned for their charge as they are, the care team learn several things within a few days. This boy is William Graham, the child who went missing in Louisiana all those years ago after making a phone call reporting that his father was dead. He has no living family, no one to take him in. Reports in his old case file say that he was a quiet boy, polite up to a point. Intelligent where it mattered, and terribly self-sufficient for one so young.

Additionally, they learn that Will had never broken a bone, despite nine years in the wild, but there was an old hairline fracture from a fall that must have occurred when Will was seven or eight. They observed that the boy walked hunched over, preferring to be on all fours. Physically, he is more or less healthy, despite multiple scars across his body and posture.

They learn that Will has no social skills. He cannot regulate his scent, refuses clothes. He doesn’t use a toilet, he sleeps under the bed provided. Tears out any IV, and thrashes through the injections they have to resort to using. Will reviles touch.

Will Graham becomes a ward of the state of Maryland, and he gets a care team with more permanent members and filled with specialists.

Dr. Hannibal Lecter, Johns Hopkins top surgeon, an alpha, of course hears about the feral omega boy. He approaches Will Graham’s care team with a proposition.

Will feels dull, tired. He will never see his pack again. The tears have stopped coming, and the anger he throws at the people who come to see him is half-hearted.

He can’t get used to the new place he’s in and the invasive people, but he starts to see a pattern to his days.

They feed him, he eats. Sometimes he throws up everything, but they pull him back from eating his vomit. He snarls and hisses.

They touch him, feeling his legs and arms and chest. After the first few times, Will just lets it happen with few scratches to the perpetrator. (He sucks the blood off his fingernails after, glad for one distinctly familiar taste.)

They put fabric on him, expecting him to wear it like they do. He can only stand the loosest and most flowy items, and tears them off as soon as no one is in the room. Nothing will be tolerated around his legs.

They have him sit on a smooth chair with a hole, and wait there with him as if they expect something to happen. The weird chair brings some sort of memory to the back of Will’s mind, but he can’t quite grasp it. Sometimes he gets bored and pees in the thing, and the people look very happy about that.

They speak to him, especially this one woman. She shapes her mouth very clearly and points at him and repeats her sounds. Will knows he’s supposed to copy her, but he just glares instead. He only begins to recognize one thing she says, “Will”. That’s his name. He was called that, once.

They bring him to different rooms and _exercise_ him. Will was excited at first, but he hates when they touch his back and force him to stand up straight. He tries to drown himself in the small pool they set him in, and they make him wear a horrible harness after that.

Sometimes he sleeps too heavily, not quite right. He thinks it has to do with the cold pointy thing they stick in him right before he passes out.

Will misses his pack.

Then, someone new starts visiting him.

The visits with the new man are different. He doesn’t force Will out from underneath the bed, and he doesn’t try to touch him. Instead, he just … talks.

Will had been wary at first, of course, hissing and spitting out fear hormones into the small room. This man smells strange, unlike anything that Will has encountered with these _people_ so far. Spicy, calming. Will won’t trust him.

But the man just walks in, says “Hello, Will,” in a deep and melodic voice, and sits in a chair and talks. It’s … soothing. The combination of the man’s musky scent and sonorous voice has Will shivering and pooling on the floor.

After a few days of this new person in what Will is grudgingly thinking of as his space, the room starts to keep his spice and musk scent around even when the man is gone. Will doesn’t understand why he feels the need to keep that scent around even more, and why he curls up on the chair the man was sitting in after he’s gone. The scent calms him, but he doesn’t trust the person who carries it. He doesn’t trust anyone.

The other patterns continue, they still talk to him and exercise him and poke him. But that man is a new constant, entering Will’s space; it feels almost like he _belongs_ there.

After a while, Will learns to go along with what the other people want for him, as much as he can understand. It’s easier that way, and they reward him. He still won’t talk, though.

With the man talking, he finds that his cunt is becoming wet the longer Will knows him. During these times, Will is almost floating under the bed, feeling weightless and unburdened. Will finds that sticking his fingers in his cunt helps. He stays under the bed while listening to the man talk and rubs. It’s kind of pleasant. The man once stuttered to a halt at that point, but resumed normally. Will thinks he would let this man touch him, if he tried.

Dr. Lecter is proving to be a success with Will Graham. The other doctors are impressed at his calm demeanor, the way Will is much calmer after Dr. Lecter visits. They make notes in his chart, implore the wonderful doctor for more help, which he readily offers.

He smiles to himself, enjoying the other hospital staff fawning over him for a new reason. He smiles because he smells Will Graham’s slick now when he visits. He smiles because he will mount Will Graham.

Dr. Lecter starts to plant the idea that he should take the boy home.

The doctors and social workers and omega experts think Dr. Lecter might be right. The surgeon has a way with the feral boy that none of those on his care team can replicate. A stable home environment would probably be good for Will Graham, instead of the stuffy hospital he’s barely enduring. And Dr. Lecter is a wealthy bachelor studying to transition to psychiatry, so he is extremely well-suited to bear the brunt of Will’s emotional care.

Dr. Lecter is given a leave of absence and the okay to take Will Graham home, with multiple hospital and in-home visits planned each week. When he holds his hand out to Will after the orderlies clothe him in a flowy dress, the young omega’s eyes grow wide and he grabs Hannibal’s wrist with both hands, hanging on for dear life. The alpha smiles, barely holding back the desire to bite into the small thing’s flesh right here and now.


	3. New Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for some more dub-con sexuality! no sex.

Will scrabbles at the windows in the car.  He’s sitting in the backseat, with a hospital tech sitting with him to keep him safe while Hannibal drives. The tech keeps making him sit down, rebuckling his seatbelt when Will figures out how to undo it himself. Dr. Lecter laughs softly to himself, glad to see his new ward in a space he owns – regardless of the extra company. 

W hen getting in the car, Will had resisted and started to scream and scratch. Surprisingly, even to Hannibal, a simple “ _tsk_ ” from his stern guardian calmed him enough to be buckled in.  The boy growled slightly until he met Dr. Lecter’s eyes, and then quickly ducked his head and quieted.

Now, the hospital tech and assorted nurses from the car that followed them bustle through the Lecter household to be sure it’s child-proof (it is, Hannibal made sure) and to help set up a safe bedroom for Will with a lock, and then they finally, finally leave.

W ill is given free reign. Hannibal does not touch him as he explores the house, and follows him at leisure. The house is s omething of a museum to Will, walking on silent feet and replacing everything he touches with careful hands. Hannibal smiles. Will is growing on him more and more.

After a while of poking around and touching everything  with calloused hands , Will tears his dress off and runs to the floor-to-ceiling window  on the ground floor.

He looks imploringly at Hannibal, who chuckles and unlocks the door for him. Even without the begging eyes, the doctor can tell exactly what  he wants through his yearning scent.  Will streaks out into the open and frolics like a wild animal.  Hannibal’s fence is high, so he lets Will run freely in the yard until it’s time to eat  dinner.

Hannibal has been provided a thorough caring guide for Will, including details on what he  has been able to eat without vomiting.  It is helpful, though Hannibal intends to push Will’s boundaries with food as soon as he is able. 

While Will runs and jumps and rolls  in the setting sun ,  Hannibal  watches and  prepares a simple but robust meal.  Opening the backdoor, he calls  Will inside. Will does not come.  In fact, Hannibal cannot see him.

Hannibal knows  Will didn’t leave the  darkening yard, he can smell him.  The young omega has left a trail of sweet happy pheromones everywhere, unrestrained, but none leading over the fence or otherwise out. 

Stepping out ,  Dr. Lecter peek s behind one of his plum trees,  not fully expecting to find Will that easily . Suddenly, a small force hits him hard in the side and Hannibal reacts quickly  by allowing himself to fall down,  curling his body  to prevent injury to the young boy. The young boy who is sitting on top of him, laughing. His eyes are bright,  scent effusing his joy.

Will’s hair is wild. He tugs at Hannibal, pushing him  into the grass , who  sighs good-naturedly before indulging  Will in his desired wrestling match.  Tackling and evading play-bites,  Hannibal must restrain himself for the boy’s safety.  Happily, he  finds himself on the defensive often, a credit to Will’s wild upbringing.

As the rowdiness fades into just laughter and rolling on the grass, Hannibal allows himself to  _notice_ . Will is warm. Smooth, where not scarred. Tan everywhere, calluses thick. Hair untamed and beautiful, especially with the attentions of the hospital staff who washed it twice  since  Will’s first heat.

Smiling, Hannibal lets himself take a risk and stands. As he rises, he lets his hand drag up Will’s arm and, briefly, his neck. Will’s eyes flutter and he shivers. A frown of confusion flickers across his face before he sits up enough to put his face in the doctor’s palm. Hannibal refrains from gasping, but it’s a near thing. A gorgeous young omega, naked and kneeling, head in his hand.

Hannibal rubs his finger against the boy’s cheek, whose eyes flutter. Hannibal pets his hair, and Will – Will bears his neck in submission, scent displaying how pleased and calm he is. Hints of submission laced in that scent … Hannibal has to force down a rumble. This new dynamic can be explored _later._ Hannibal brings the feral boy in to eat.

  
  


W ill resists going inside again. This man has been good to him so far, but he is clearly leading Will  _inside._ The comfortable moment from before is lost.  Will’s scent goes sour, fast.

“Come, Will, it is time to eat dinner.” At the words (Will has heard some of those words before, and thinks he knows the _Will_ one), Will struggles against the large hand holding his and when it does not let up, bites it. 

Except Will doesn’t get to bite the hand. Just as he lunges, the man’s other hand appears at his jaw, holding it in place away from his hand. The fingers are warm and completely cover Will’s lower jaw while  deftly evading his teeth. 

Will growls, but that and his glare fizzles out when he meets the man’s calm but stern eyes. So dark, almost red. Similar to a wolf’s. Will lets the tension leak out of his body; this man does not mean him any harm.

The man smiles and releases Will’s jaw, and says once again, “It’s time to eat dinner.” This time, he moves his hand to his mouth in a distinctly  _eating_ way, and Will understands.  _Ee_ _sstiymtoe_ _e_ _tdinnrr_ means food.

Inside, which smells  _wonderful_ , the man holds out the cloth for Will to don once more. This time, Will goes with little fuss as he is dressed, because the man smiles serenely and strokes Will’s hair. His musky scent that Will has grown to like is pleased as Will considers the benefits of having a pack that has  _ hands _ .

The scent of meat and spice is coming from the room with lots of corners and few antlers, and Will follows the scent there and tries to ignore the discomfort of cloth swishing at his knees and clinging to his torso. The man allows Will to stick his nose close to a plate of food for approval, but pulls it back before Will gets his hands on it. Will growls. He will not tolerate anyone who takes food away from him.

But the man brings the food to the room that leads to the outside, and puts it on the table. He sits down and gestures for Will to do the same, while saying more words (one of which is  _ Will  _ again!). Maybe this is the way to get food, here. Will climbs onto the pulled-out chair, glances at the man sitting next to him, and smiles. The man’s scent gets stronger for a second that Will relishes. Then he promptly grabs the whole plate of food and ducks under the table to eat.

“ _ Will.  _ Come back up here,” sounds the deep voice. Will has barely put a chunk of meat in his mouth, and guiltily swallows it before shuffling towards the man’s strange covered feet.  Looking up at the man, Will tries for begging with wide eyes and plaintive whines. Maybe he’ll be allowed to eat if he shows submission. 

The man raises an eyebrow and Will doesn’t know what that means, but he holds out a hand for Will. Interested, since this man’s hands have never done anything to hurt Will, he grabs it and is carefully lifted into standing on his hind legs. The man also takes Will’s food – hushing Will when he hisses in disapproval – and places it close to where he’s standing, on the table. 

The man is going to let him eat! Ecstatic, Will shoves another meaty morsel into his mouth and throws his arms around the man. Warmth. Warmth and food. Good.

It has been so long since Will has experienced the warmth of his pack, but when the man wraps his arms around Will and pulls him into his lap, Will practically purrs. Maybe humans aren’t so bad if this one is so gentle.  _ And,  _ he had let Will play outside, played _ with _ him, and is giving him actually good food!

The man whispers something to Will, who doesn’t understand but likes his voice so close to his ear, and puts some of Will’s food – a root vegetable this time – onto a sharp object and lifts it to Will’s mouth. Happy with this development, Will pulls the vegetable into his mouth and quickly chews and swallows. No need to let go of warmth if the warmth is going to feed him by hand.

This touch, this feeding, it’s nothing like what Will experienced in that  _ other  _ place. That strange place with the chemical smells and many people. This man touches him like he wants to comfort, like he wants to take care of Will.

Maybe, just maybe, if Will’s pack has abandoned him, this man with wolf’s eyes can be his new pack. Will settles comfortably into the large legs and arms and eats everything fed to him. (So that’s what those sharp and shiny things are for. Will saw things like that in the chemical place, saw them used, but now he  _ understands  _ because they are used to feed  _ him. _ )

Will much prefers eating at the table if he can sit in the alpha’s lap. His sharp scent surrounds him, his body is large and warm, and Will is getting filled with strong food. Will’s slit is leaking, he knows, and that’s still a strange experience, but he’s starting to associate it with happy things. He lets it happen, rubbing his cunt sometimes on the rough material covering the man’s legs.

When both plates are clean – Will ate more than the man did, and is chuffed to know the man gave up some food for  _ him _ – Will settles more thoroughly into the alpha’s lap. He wraps his arms more tightly around the man’s neck, and buries his face there. It’s definitely time to scent this man properly, if he’s to be his new pack. Scenting was common in his pack, and it brought him a lot of comfort. Here, now, the man barely stiffens before relaxing and returning the favor. Will smiles into the warm neck. Musk, strength, spices,  _ alpha _ . Will’s cunt leaks a little more and he wiggles his hips down onto the firm legs below him.

Maybe this will be good.

  
  


Will wakes up a few moments later, cradled in a strong and warm grasp, as the alpha carries him away from the food place. Startled, Will struggles, but a large hand finds his curls and pets him. That feeling is so nice. It’s something that Will did for his wolves, but never could receive in return because of their lack of fingers and thumbs. But it is so  _ nice _ . Will relaxes, and lets himself feel sleepy after that large, satisfying meal.

They stop in a smaller room that has the water device and the peeing-chair. Aided by his large alpha, Will relieves himself, proud that he had figured it out over the last few days in the chemical place. Hands are washed (with little help from Will, too busy enjoying the large hands over his), and Will yawns.

“Just a moment, sweet thing.  We must brush your teeth before bed.” The sonorous voice washes over him, and Will blinks slowly, falling asleep on his feet. The man chuckles, and presses his firm body behind Will’s. He is solid and warm, and Will leans back heavily.

A stick with bristles and mint paste finds its way into Will’s mouth, and he groans. He had almost forgotten about this. This was one of the  _ worst  _ parts of chemical place, besides the hands forcing his back straight. He lets his body go slack in protest, but the man easily holds him up. Will gnaws on the stick spitefully, growling and trying to spit it out half-heartedly.

The large arm holding him up snakes across his torso and pries Will’s jaw open. Will thrashes a little, and the hold gets tighter, digging into pressure points Will didn’t know he had in his jaw. The man holds him firm until Will huffs and stops resisting.

“Good boy,” is whispered into his hair, and Will doesn’t know why that starts a shiver down his spine and slick to leak from his cunt, but it  _ does.  _ And then the stick is moving in and out of Will’s mouth, around his teeth, carefully controlled by the alpha.

Oh. Maybe this exercise isn’t so bad if it’s like  _ this.  _ Whispers into his ear comfort Will as the stick tickles his gums. The man is careful, stroking every single one of Will’s teeth. Will squirms, but no longer in disapproval. He rubs his legs together, and then the experience is over. The man holds a cup to Will’s mouth and he rinses the unpleasant mint down into the water source.

Hoping it’s time for sleep now, Will starts to move away, but the hand cradling his jaw holds firm. Confused, Will tries to look back at the man pressed against him. Then, the other large hand finds its way into Will’s mouth. This didn’t happen at the chemical place. But neither did playtime outdoors, so maybe this is okay.

Especially if the man pets around his mouth like  _ that.  _ Will whines as the fingers move around his mouth, gathering saliva and pushing down on his tongue. The man is looking. He feels his stare, and Will is  _ wet.  _ How does this man get him so consistently  _ wet?  _ It must be a good thing, because Will feels so  _ good.  _

And then it’s over, and Will is brought to a room with many blankets and a bed. He is given pets and soft words, and instructed to sleep. (Will understands  _ Sleep  _ now because the chemical people said it to him every night, just like this.) Then the door is closed, and Will hears a click.

Will stands there, in the middle of his room, dazed. He’s definitely sleepy. The pampering has been more than nice, and Will is definitely going to be more comfortable in this place than in the chemical place.

So why does he feel empty?

He spends the next few minutes going through the room thoroughly, upturning every blanket and tugging out every drawer. There’s cloth everywhere, in the draws, on the bed, under the bed. Some hard fabric and animal-smelling material on paired items like what people all wear on their feet. Will knows that he is meant to wear these things, and decides to bite anyone, even his alpha, if they make him.

Eventually, he remembers that he’s wearing a foreign cloth right now, and quickly sheds the dress. Resigned, Will crawls under the bed and pulls himself into a nest.

Several minutes pass. Will cannot sleep.

He wasn’t able to sleep well at the chemical place, either. But this place is more comfortable, smells more like that man.

And Will realizes the problem. It doesn’t smell  _ enough  _ like the man.

  
  


Hannibal throws off his covers and rushes to Will’s room as soon as he hears the wailing. The evening had been pleasant, and Will easier to placate than Hannibal had first thought. Brushing the young omega’s teeth had been an enlightening experience, to say the least, and it took five minutes of mediation for his semi-erection to go down enough for him to dress in sleep pants. The memory of Will’s slick will haunt him in his dreams, he knows.

Hannibal thought the boy would go straight to bed, having been so sleepy while exuding pleased pheromones. But as he unlocks the door and steps into the omega’s room, he is confronted with a heavy mix of scents: despondency, restlessness and  _ fear.  _ Will is cowering under his bed, in a poorly-made nest, crying and screaming into the night.

Hannibal drops to the floor to be at the same level, and finds that Will is scratching at his own arms, more feverishly when he seems to realize someone else is there.

“Will. Will, you’re dreaming. Wake up, Will.” Hannibal controls his scent and sends calming alpha pheromones into the room. Will, however, starts to hyperventilate.

“Will, I am coming to get you now.” Dr. Lecter knows that this feral child cannot understand him, yet, but hopes the words will aid in calming Will. As Hannibal crawls under the bed, however, Will lashes out, growling and hissing, and scratches Hannibal’s outstretched arm.

Quick as a viper, Hannibal avoids the incoming bite and scruffs Will.

  
  


Will immediately goes lax. He’s been scruffed before, many times in his wild young life. Will is both an omega and used to wolves, who would scruff him when he misbehaved or acted too human. But wolf teeth were meant for scruffing wolf pups, not human boys. Scruffing, as Will has known it, is more painful than soothing. So when the man’s large hand closes around the back of Will’s neck and actually presses into his pressure points, Will’s lizard brain programmed for submission reacts in a way he’s never experienced before.

Finally, Will is able to scent the air, no longer breathing just through his mouth, and finds that it’s his alpha holding his neck. The man who is here to protect him, keep him from harm. The alpha’s scent is calm, his hand is solid, and Will lets his body fall limp to the ground.

In the next moment, Will is pulled into the man’s lap once more. This time, there is barely any barrier between the man and Will, only some light cloth around the man’s legs much softer than before. Will buries his face into the man’s furry chest and grips his pectorals in his small hands. The man sighs in a way that brings tingles to Will’s core, but soothes those tingles with soft strokes through his hair and along his back with those powerful hands.

Will rubs his face into the fur and laps at the exposed skin, feeling sleepy again. His alpha came for him, is holding him.  He sucks lightly at the man’s collarbone when he’s carried into a new room, one that smells much more strongly of his alpha.

The man keeps Will close as he tucks them under covers on top of the bed, and Will falls asleep surrounded by the most soothing scent he’s smelled since Trout died.  Will smiles as he sleeps.


	4. Bleed and Grow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know the drill, this is heavy dub con and also Will is nonverbal and underage! no sex yet, but we're getting there.....
> 
> ** you may notice I removed the rape/non-con tag. I didn't think it was necessary, because I have underage tagged, and both parties are consenting, and underage consent is known to be non-con/dub-con inherently. so please read the tags as they are, because they do describe exactly what you need to know for this fic.

Will gets used to his new life. It's not easy, it’s often frustrating, but he has a guide.

Hannibal. It had taken Will weeks to learn that those collection of sounds correspond to the nice man who is pack. He still can’t say it, like other people can, but he knows it now.

Hannibal feeds Will good food. He is a good alpha. When Will gets frustrated or petulant at the food (he doesn’t understand the stuff on his plate) Hannibal leans over and hand-feeds Will until Will grudgingly gorges himself on the rest. His alpha is always right; the food is always good.

Will does not sit in Hannibal’s lap anymore. It’s not polite. That’s another word that Will knows, now, because Hannibal uses it a lot. Instead, Will has gotten used to sitting on a chair, and using things other than his hands to eat.

A spoon comes first, the most instinctual of the silvery instruments. It’s like a hand, but smaller and less effective. Then Hannibal introduces him to a fork and a knife. The fork is like the spoon, so Will can scoop things up, unless they’re too big or liquidy. Will likes being able to stab his food, but he doesn’t like the sound the fork makes when it hits the plate. So he mostly scoops.

The knife, however, proves troublesome. Will watches Hannibal slice his food and gracefully raise it to his mouth in perfect morsels. (Will’s cunt clenches when he watches Hannibal. He still isn’t sure why this man makes him feel this way.) But when Will tries to use a knife for the first time, he’s too excited. He confidently puts his hand on the slice of cooked meat to hold it and cuts with his other hand. And then there is blood.

Hannibal moves fast, fast enough that Will doesn’t cry out in pain until after Hannibal’s mouth is closed around Will’s bleeding thumb. Will stares, shocked, watching his pack leader lathe his tongue around Will’s wound. It doesn’t hurt that much, not really. Will’s eyes barely leak a few tears.

Then Hannibal pulls off, looks directly into Will’s eyes — Will shivers, he can’t help it — and plants a kiss on the top of Will’s thumb.

“Ah,” says Will, the air suddenly releasing from his lungs. He can’t say anything else, anyways, but this feels appropriate.

Hannibal’s expression flickers, but his scent remains steady. Will can’t tell what he’s thinking.

“Let’s get a bandage before we continue with dinner, hm?” Hannibal purrs. Will nods, mute, the only word he understands is “dinner” but nothing about Hannibal’s tone suggests food.

And then Hannibal gathers Will in his arms and carries him to the bathroom to dress his small wound.

The whole experience leaves Will tingly and breathless, and his cunt is definitely leaking. Will doesn’t use knives again, not because he’s scared of the pain, but because he doesn’t understand his own reaction to Hannibal’s care.

Will has to go to the chemical place every few days, which he does not like at all. Hannibal dresses Will in thicker clothes than usual and slips soft but horrible things on his feet and leads him to the front door, and Will knows where they’re going. But whenever he objects (kicking, biting, yowling and throwing around distress pheromones), Hannibal’s dark eyes and deep tone leave Will cowed and complacent.

Those eyes do something to Will, even when he’s upset. Avoiding the eyes doesn’t do anything either, Hannibal’s musky scent thickens and tells the omega to comply.

The chemical place — Will thinks the words “hospital” and “doctor” have something to do with it, but he’s not sure what — is as sterile as ever, even with the sad attempt at a nest the people provide him for comfort. Will elects to sit under the table, or on the chair when Hannibal gives him that look.

There, Will is poked and prodded and bled and talked to. It’s horrifying, Will wants _out,_ but Hannibal is there to hold his hand through the worst of it. (Hannibal’s hand is large and it covers Will’s own hand easily. It’s warm.) He explains everything to Will, and even though Will doesn’t understand, the alpha’s voice soothes him. And he lets Will bury his nose in his wrist to get a direct hit of his calming spice scent, with Hannibal’s other hands stroking through Will’s curls and brushing his neck, and that usually distracts Will pretty well from the poking.

One good thing about the chemical place is that they teach Will words. The words that Hannibal uses. The words that are written in the old books Will fights not to touch constantly. He pays attention when the tall woman speaks at him clearly, and he tries to repeat the sounds. Will memorizes the symbols, but has trouble associating them with the sounds and understanding them together.

But Will tries, because he wants to communicate with Hannibal. And beyond that, it tickles distant memories in the back of Will’s head that feel bittersweet. Will wants to understand, both his own mind and the world around him, and then tell it all to Hannibal. Will works hard.

Dr. Hannibal Lecter is pleased. His ward is learning, fast and eagerly. He could not be more proud of Will.

Weeks pass. Hannibal watches, fascinated, as Will grows more capable in the realm of human society. Or, rather, the society of Hannibal’s house and the Johns Hopkins pediatric ward. Hannibal is able to return to work on a very reduced schedule after a few weeks because Will is showing such growth with the hospital staff. (Will always holds Hannibal tight after hours left alone with social workers and nurses, so Hannibal knows it was a good decision.)

Many aspects of the assimilation are difficult, accompanied by fits of anger and Hannibal’s arms full of upset omega. While Will is learning English again with surprising aptitude, sometimes he gets frustrated and bursts into tears after many minutes of having Hannibal repeat a sentence and still not understanding. Will is so intent on knowing what every word means that he gets stuck on one thing Hannibal says for a long time without letting Hannibal redirect him. The social workers in the hospital tell Hannibal that Will works very hard on language there, too, and has similar meltdowns.

One thing that is always accompanied by a lot of fussing is getting dressed. Will has an aversion to clothes; Hannibal knew that. But he finds the softest and most breathable outfits for Will and makes sure he stays in them for at least _most_ of the day. (At night is a different issue. Will sleeps naked no matter what, pressed to Hannibal’s side. Hannibal is not sure that he wants to dispel _that_ behavior.) Often, Hannibal clothes Will in knee-length dresses and dungarees. Quickly, he found that the feral boy is most disgruntled by the feeling of something tight around his hips, so Hannibal is easing him into the habit of wearing pants with loose, flowy linen or cotton bottoms easy to slide off. The problem is … Will slides them off.

Pants are not the only thing Hannibal finds lying around the house when he encourages Will to wear them. Sometimes, he’ll walk into one restroom and find teenage-sized panties lying in front of the toilet. Will is smart, Hannibal knows this from the aptitude tests he and the hospital staff have put Will through, and there’s no way Will is forgetting to pull his underwear back up after using the toilet. No, clearly Will is taking them off and leaving them there on purpose. Nothing restrictive around the hips, after all. (The first time it happens, before Hannibal finds the boy and directs him to put the undergarments back on, he can’t resist the instinct to push the fabric to his nose, rub it against his face. It smells so sweetly of Will’s most intimate part, a concentrated version of the slick-scent Will leaks whenever the alpha and omega make eye contact. Hannibal revels in the scent, biding his time until he can taste it from its source.) The underwear journey will be a long one.

Hannibal finds that he enjoys putting Will in clothes; the process of choosing them and then aiding the boy in putting them on is thrilling in a way he never could have expected. The fact that Will _hates_ clothes and sulks especially when wearing trousers does not put a damper on Hannibal’s glee. Teaching and touching Will, holding him when he puts up a fuss over socks and shoes … Hannibal lives for these moments. The anguished expression on Will’s face when Hannibal slides comfortable loafers onto his shaking feet does very little to sway him. Actually, Hannibal _enjoys_ figuring out how much calming and authoritative pheromones are needed for different tantrums, and which ones the boy responds to with a flow of slick.

(Will likes when Hannibal looks at him with a particularly stern expression and bears down on him with a heavy guiding scent. Hannibal never lets it show how much that pleases him.)

Food is another topic of contention with Will, but Hannibal is adamant that he eats everything on his plate. He will not mount an omega that breaks the second he slips his knot in. Besides, Hannibal procures and makes each meal, with fine attention to the taste and presentation. He has changed his culinary arts to be more appropriate for a teenager used to wild game and whole, uncooked foods. Will quickly learns that Hannibal does not budge even a little on the matter of food, so mealtime is actually quite pleasant.

However.

Will has discovered the use of the large pockets present in many of his dungarees and dresses. And he hides snacks in them. All day. This annoys Hannibal greatly. He works hard to make substantial meals for their small household, and Will insists on _snacking_ constantly! Hannibal does not discourage the habit, because it is essential that the omega grows and is never deprived of food again, but it is … _frustrating_ to find banana peels and empty chocolate wrappers in the folds of Will’s clothes at the end of the day, and sometimes even under the bed in Will’s barely-used room.

To counteract this, Hannibal has given Will stern words and pointed at the mess on numerous occasions, but the boy just got better at hiding it. And when Hannibal hid the expensive baking chocolate in the highest, least accessible shelf in the pantry, he discovered that Will still found a way to eat all of it by the next night.

One thing at a time. Hannibal chooses to focus more on Will’s language and social skills for now.

Unfortunately, Will does not actually _practice_ English in front of Hannibal. He gets Hannibal to repeat words, phrases, and sentences; he points to things and demands Hannibal name and explain them; but Will does this all with gestures and cooing noises. Hannibal knows Will is _capable_ of at least mirroring speech, because the speech therapist and social worker tell him so. In fact, Will is even at the point of writing basic CVC words, like _cat_ and _rot_ and _wag._ Often, when Hannibal crosses the hospital from the surgical suite to the pediatric ward to pick Will up, he is shown scratchy symbols on a paper. (Most of them say _dog_ ).

Hannibal does not understand why Will won’t talk with him. His vocabulary is expanding every day, and his pronunciation is leagues better than it was weeks ago – _or so the speech therapist tells him._ Every evening, Hannibal reads a chapter from a book or some poems to Will, and he knows the speech therapist does the same at the hospital. But at the _hospital,_ Will _participates._ Anger is an emotion Hannibal is familiar with, but what he feels is sorrow. He lies awake at night once to analyze that feeling, and why it would be directed to this young conquest of his. Perhaps it is his possessiveness taking hold.

Will remembers one word from his childhood. A word that he used to describe the person who took care of him: an alpha, a male. After weeks of frustration that Will won’t _speak_ to Hannibal, Will surprises him with this word.

“Daddy!” chirps Will, after Hannibal finishes his last surgery and goes to pick Will up from the pediatric research wing.

There is only a nurse and a medical assistant nearby, but the damage is done. The assistant chuckles, and cheerfully tells Hannibal that they were working on a book about families today, and isn’t it so sweet that Will has taken to Dr. Lecter like that.

Sweet.

Hannibal does not let his scent change, or his eyes flash. The word means nothing to him, not right now. It cannot mean a _thing._ He plasters on a smooth smile and wraps an arm around the clinging omega, and bids Will to come. They hold hands to the car and Hannibal can _smell_ Will’s pleased omega scent. Not the scent a child would display to a father.

During the car ride home, Will says a few more words, a broken sentence. He is finally ready to show Hannibal the product of his weeks of learning, his scent excited when he is able to say “I like your food, daddy!” without a hitch. Hannibal's spine tingles. Will also talks about dogs. Though he has been waiting for it, Hannibal can barely concentrate.

Will’s hair is messy from a day at the hospital, curls abundant, creating a halo around his angelic face. His pretty dress is rumpled, almost torn where Will clenched it in anxiety throughout the day. His voice is cracking, a lovely teenage timbre. He is producing slick, a tiny amount. Will is vibrant, pure, happy to be with _his alpha_.

Hannibal can’t control himself – doesn’t _want_ to control himself – after he gets them both out of the car and into the house. He pushes Will against the front door as soon as it closes and takes his mouth with his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on twitter for updates about this fic! <3 twitter.com/maxxeoff


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